


Vicious

by Szaira



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Clubbing, Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, Friendship, Kissing, M/M, One Night Stands, One Shot, inspired by a song, not very graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:20:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27167168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Szaira/pseuds/Szaira
Summary: “It won't end well,” Seoho says, but he laughs out loud and clinks his glass with the others.
Relationships: Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Lee Seoho
Kudos: 21





	Vicious

**Author's Note:**

> Hi ♡  
> Tate McRae ft. Lil Mosey - vicious. That's the reason why this fic was made ~  
> My standard warnings: English is not my first language (sorry for mistakes!), and the characters in this story have nothing in common with real people.  
> I hope you will like it ♡

“It won't end well,” Seoho says, but he laughs out loud and clinks his glass with the others.

The fluid is sometimes blue and sometimes yellow-orange. Its layers mix as they flow down the throat, causing a marked burning sensation. The ice rattle in glasses, but it is never allowed to melt and dilute too high a concentration of alcohol. Some drinks are with lemon, others with mint.

Seoho has probably tried each one.

“It won't end well, I swear-”

“Shhh, shut up,” Youngjo puts a finger to Seoho's mouth, stopping the next unnecessary words. Sliding it off, he involuntarily knocks his lower lip, making it vibrate slightly. “You said the same before the exams, and now we celebrate.”

Seoho shudders. “Is this the reason why we have to die all day tomorrow?”

“So smart,” Youngjo pats Seoho's thigh, sliding down to his knee and returning higher. “No wonder you did so well today.”

His eyes are glazed and dark hair is ruffled. Crumpled shirt protrudes messily from his pants, and the top two buttons of his denim shirt are unbuttoned, either intentionally or accidentally. In brain tired and foggy with alcohol, Seoho finds only one word worth describing his whole existence.

Alluring.

Surprised by his own thought, he looks into his glass and drinks the remaining liquid all at once, wincing.

Feeling pressure on his leg, he notices that Youngjo's hand is still there, and he stares at him meaningfully. “I want to dance,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, dancing will do you good,” Seoho says as Youngjo rests his head on his shoulder, “You're a bit tipsy,” he ends up, making Youngjo giggle.

People get drunk differently. Some become aggressive, others instantly sleepy. Youngjo is always even more absorbing than usual. He snuggles into the crease of Seoho’s neck, and Seoho anxiously notices that this time he doesn't mind. With fright that he likes it.

“Come with me,” Youngjo asks him with a pleading expression on his face.

“I will watch you from here.”

“Come on, please,” he begs him, “I stopped drinking a while ago, you just now. You will be as drunk as me in a moment, Seoho.”

Youngjo is his good friend, and friends are not denied, so Seoho is suddenly on the dance floor amidst the crowd, moving to the rhythm of bodies around him. The music is loud, and the colored lights irritate their eyes, overloaded with the excess of science in recent days. Youngjo is right. Only dancing can reduce the degree of suffering the hangover will cause the next day, so he dances and dances, and the atmosphere around them is heated.

Songs change, and Seoho changes with them. He feels lighter, more confident. He's so damn proud of himself, and knowing that he deserves this evening of relaxation, he allows himself more. Alcohol dissolves in his blood, and Youngjo changes too, although he's still like he always was.

Inviting. Seductive.

There are times when Seoho feels a shadow of touch on his body, and delayed movements prevent him from catching the perpetrator. He knows exactly who it is, wants to catch him red-handed, and hold to account. He is sensible, and his actions always precede his thoughts, so now, when his mind is going crazy, he can't resist the unfolding of events.

“Someone almost ran into you," Seoho says, putting his hands on Youngjo's waist and moving him closer.

Youngjo bites his lower lip. “Really? You’re so caring." He smiles playfully, and his gaze is flirty.

“That's what friends are for,” Seoho adds, and seeing Youngjo's disappointed expression, he is almost sure of his suspicion. To confuse him more, he slides his hands further towards Youngjo's back pockets and decides to take the final test.

“I think I'll go now,” he says with his eyes downcast and barely holds back a smirk because the bait has been taken.

“Now? I will walk you home.”

‧ ❈ ‧

The door slams, the keys fall to the floor, and Youngjo's body hits dull the wall behind him.

He whines. “I don't know if that's what I meant by telling you to push me to the edge,” he laughs softly as Seoho licks this laugh directly from his lips. He presses him so hard that Youngjo has no chance of running away. He has no intention of escaping at all.

“This is just the beginning.” Seoho's hand runs through Youngjo's hair, clenching it into a grip and pushing his head a little back, a little to the side so that more of the delicacy skin on his neck is within reach of his mouth. “You will lose your mind.”

“Did I mention that I want it?”

“Last kiss then.” Seoho stops pecking, and lets go of Youngjo's hair, sliding his hand along the line of his jaw and stopping it under his chin. Picking it up, he kisses him softly, so innocently...

Youngjo grabs Seoho's wrists and swiftly switches their places, making Seoho sigh as the impact on a hard surface of the wall deprives him of air.

“You're so vicious,” Youngjo says and moves Seoho’s wrists higher and higher up the wall until he is defenseless right in front of him. Leaning in, he whispers straight into his ear, “I can't stand you.”

Now it is he who examines the neck pulsating steadily and so quickly under his lips. At the thought of hot blood rushing to every corner of Seoho’s body, his heart speeds up. Seoho struggles in his grip, and Youngjo feels his muscles tighten under the soft skin.

“You're so lucky that I need them,” he says, taking his hands away and releasing Seoho's wrists. Following his own words, he puts them on his hips, and with thumbs, makes circles on the bones that can be felt through tight jeans.

Seoho's free hands tighten on the fabric on Youngjo's back, harder with each second as now Youngjo’s fingers slide along the lines of his underwear. He breathes faster when he feels Youngjo's finger digs under the rubber band and chokes on his breath as it presses the skin in the most sensitive area.

“I change my mind,” Youngjo takes his hand back, and the rubber band snaps. “You’re damn sensitive-”

Seoho kisses him passionately, wistfully, as if there was no tomorrow. “You talk too much,” he says to Youngjo.

To his friend.

There will be no tomorrow. At least for both of them.

“So only touch from now on.” Youngjo's hand slips under Seoho’s shirt and glides higher, stopping suddenly. “Lee Seoho,” he says adding second hand, and now both massage his stomach and chest under his simple white shirt, stretching it to the limit. “How could you hide something like that?”

Muscles are defined, hard, and perfect. Youngjo's eyes are closed, but he knows exactly what will happen when he opens them and tears off some innocent clothes. His mind is tangled with excess alcohol, and sinful thoughts fuel him, stimulate his lips fighting for every Seoho's breath.

Desire is as loose as sand and pours through their fingers. They can't stop it.

Seoho pushes Youngjo away, breathing hard. His lips are bright red, cheeks pink, and his head is spinning. Emotions and Youngjo's touch set him on fire so much that his legs refuse to obey him.

“I'm about to fall over,” he gasps.

“Do I affect you that much?” Youngjo asks but worries at once. “I won’t let you.”

He takes his hand and leads him through a familiar apartment. It is so small that it takes just a few steps to get to the kitchen open to the living room, even though for paralyzed limbs and muffled minds, the distance seems long and difficult to cover. Youngjo helps Seoho to lean against the kitchen island, opens the window, and pours water taken from a fridge into a mug.

“Enough for today,” he says. Seoho swallows quickly and puts the cup down, surprised.

“We're not done yet.”

And he grabs Youngjo by the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards him, and puts their lips together impatiently to make up for a few lost minutes. On this one and only night, every second is too precious to waste, too valuable to lose.

Youngjo breaks off the kiss, “Seoho-”

“Stop being so caring”

More, closer, deeper. He wants to get as much as possible, giving as much as possible in return.

“I want to take care of you,” Youngjo whispers, “In a way like you will crave it.”

He pushes him away again. It is a constant game of pushing and pulling between them. Their bodies are like magnets, long at a safe distance from each other now that they have been brought together, they react.

“Let's go this way,” he says and grabs the hem of Seoho’s shirt and slowly pulls it up. He doesn't resist, so Youngjo picks up pace, and moments later, it is tossed aside, and faint kitchen light highlights the pale skin and sculpted tissues beneath it.

Youngjo puts his fingers to his bare chest and strokes it. “Breathtaking,” he says quietly, admiring the view in front of him and then looks into Seoho’s eyes, “I'll let you catch some fresh air.”

Replacing fingers with lips, he makes gentle and tender kisses moving lower and lower. He takes his time and devotes the right amount of time to each place, inhaling the intoxicating scent of Seoho's skin.

Seoho is trembling. He feels exposed, and this feeling is so exciting that it is not enough for him. He wants to be more visible, to put himself out for Youngjo, to make everything he wants to do with him easier. He wants to show him everything and tell him every little secret. His hands slide backward across the kitchen counter, allowing him to stretch and give Youngjo access to his every little mystery…

A loud noise brings them to the ground.

“It’s your fault,” Seoho says, breathing quickly. On the floor next to them are pieces of a broken crockery mug.

“I'm sorry.” Youngjo pulls Seoho closer and hugs him to calm him down. “I really didn't mean to.” He strokes his back, enjoying the warmth of his body so close again. The skin is hot, and he wants to feel that warmth directly against his skin without unnecessary layers on his body.

“You will work it off.”

“I will,” Youngjo whispers, “But in a safer place.”

In the blink of an eye, they are surrounded by sheets, pillows, and blankets. The blinds are closed, the light is dimmed. Pants have been too tight for a long time.

“We will regret it,” Seoho says, but his hands glide on and on through Youngjo's shirt, ignoring the resistance of buttons and undoing them in its path.

“I know-“ Youngjo gasps, but his voice is instantly muffled by Seoho’s tongue. Gently bitting it, he gets enough time to breathe, “I know it very well.”

There are no limits to their connected bodies. Fingers itch, hungry for touch they didn't even know they needed. Alcohol and blood rustle in their heads, blood driven by hearts beating so fast and hard that they feel each other beating against their skin, so warm, wet, and sticky...

Breaths are loud, fast, and shallow. The air smells like lust.

Lips taste like sin.

So delicious.

“It’s out of our hands.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I'm on Twitter as @_szaira :3


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